by Annie West
Yet she let him hold her hand between his palms without pushing him away.
‘As bad as Alkis?’ he couldn’t help asking. Now he saw his actions in a new light. Circumstances and his own outrageous behaviour bracketed him together with the man he’d despised for pursuing a nubile young trophy wife.
His breath stopped as he awaited her answer. For whatever there was between them—sex, excitement, even a strange, raw relationship built on moments of connection like this—Damon wasn’t ready to end it.
He wasn’t ready to relinquish her.
‘Nothing could be as bad as that.’
The quiet vehemence in her clipped words sliced through his thoughts. Her hand balled into a fist in his hold. What the hell?
‘Why not?’
Glittering eyes focused on him. In the moonlight he saw brilliant tears well and cling to her lashes.
That curious tight feeling in his chest struck again and his hands tightened around hers.
‘My husband was a manipulative, suspicious control freak. Mental cruelty was his speciality.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I’m glad he’s dead.’
Before Damon could respond she spoke again.
‘I don’t want to talk about him. But you owe me an answer.’
She halted, looking down at their linked hands then up again in a sidelong glance that told him she’d chosen her question carefully.
‘Tell me. Who did the woman tonight remind you of?’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DAMON flinched at the abrupt change of subject. His grasp loosened, allowing her to slide her hand free.
He didn’t want to talk about this.
It was too private, even now too raw.
He met her unwavering stare.
He owed her. He’d trampled through Callie’s traumatic past, hauling to the surface long-buried pain and fear. Because he had to know what made her tick.
Now he understood. At least enough to piece together some of the betrayal and disappointment she’d suffered.
Six years with a man she didn’t love or respect. With a man she abhorred. Yet she’d played the role of devoted spouse and affectionate niece rather, he guessed, than hurt the ones she loved: her aunt and cousin.
He heard enough snippets of phone conversations to know Callie rang them often, keeping tabs on her aunt’s health.
Callie Manolis was the opposite of what he’d believed her. Strong, principled, stoic, with an integrity that shone.
Completely different from the woman she asked about.
Callie watched Damon withdraw as silence enclosed them.
For the first time she’d been honest about her marriage. Not even with Aunt Desma had she come clean about how awful it had been. Her aunt would have blamed herself for not stopping the wedding.
Callie’s emotions were muddled. The old negative feelings surfaced. Yet she had a confused sense of something positive emerging from the morass of regret, anger and self-doubt.
It had taken all her strength to hold her own against Alkis’ attempts to undermine her confidence. Damon’s apology, so direct yet so obviously real, was like a brisk breeze, chasing away the tattered storm clouds of old pain.
Such a simple thing, an apology. But the first one Callie had received for any of the trauma inflicted by the men in her life.
It felt momentous.
Had he been right about sharing the past to make a fresh start?
Callie doubted it was so easy. But she felt better, as if some of the hurt she’d carried so long had healed.
And she felt…trust.
Damon wasn’t the amoral opportunist she’d thought. He’d been shocked by her story.
She’d had glimpses of a man who might be far more, far better than the egotistic, power-hungry shark she’d thought him. Now she had proof.
Relief lightened her very bones. She was tied to Damon in deep, inexplicable ways, not just by sexual passion. For the first time she dared hope her feelings weren’t self-destructive. That he was a man worth trusting.
He raked a hand through his hair, his face set in grim lines that told their own tale.
Instinct had been right. Some woman in his life had left her mark indelibly.
Did he trust Callie enough to share that secret?
Or had trust been a one-way street?
She held her breath as she waited for him to brush off her question with a glib reply.
‘Leta Xanthis.’ The words were a grating whisper. ‘She reminded me of Leta Xanthis.’
‘Leta…?’ Callie frowned. The name was vaguely familiar.
‘I forget. You didn’t grow up in Greece.’ His voice was terse. ‘She was wife to the most powerful media mogul in Europe. Her beauty and glamour made her a household name.’
Callie nodded. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘A drug overdose. It caused quite a stir.’ Damon sounded as if he were reading a boring news item, not talking about someone he’d known.
Callie watched his mouth compress, his brows furrow. His hand speared again through his hair.
‘Was she a friend of your family?’
He snorted. ‘Hardly!’ His head jerked back in obvious disgust and he shot to his feet. Energy sizzled through him as he paced to the railing on the edge of the terrace.
When he swung back his face was in shadow, the glow of city lights and the moon behind him.
‘We didn’t mix with the likes of her. She’d have been outraged.’ He drew a slow breath. ‘When my father died my mother supported us by cleaning houses for rich families with coastal villas.’
Callie heard the ripple of anger in his words. Damon was a proud man. It would have scored his pride to see his mother toiling for others in such a way.
‘How old were you?’
‘Seventeen. I’d dropped out of school and worked as a handyman and gardener on the same estates. But I didn’t earn enough to support the family. My mother still had to endure years of grinding toil.’
Regret laced his tone. Obviously he’d felt he should have been able to step straight into his father’s shoes and support the whole family.
‘Leta Xanthis owned one of the villas?’
His head reared up as if Callie had interrupted deep thoughts.
‘Her husband did. He rarely visited and she used it for entertaining.’ He almost spat the last word, the venom in his voice so patent that Callie shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms.
‘She knew your mother?’
‘She wouldn’t notice the woman who scrubbed the toilets or cleaned the filth after her orgies.’
Orgies? Surely he exaggerated.
‘But she did notice the kid who came to trim the shrubs and look after the pool.’ His words were bitter.
Callie sat up straight as his meaning sank in. ‘She came on to you? When you were seventeen?’ How much older had she been?
‘Don’t be so shocked.’ Callie hated the world-weary cynicism of his tone. ‘Leta came on to anything in trousers. She wasn’t the only one. I learned early all about the carnal appetites of rich women with too much time on their hands.’
‘She seduced you?’ Callie choked on the words.
‘No. But that only made it worse. I became a challenge. To her and her friends. What had become occasional visits to the villa grew more frequent, till finally she lost patience and found someone new to target.’
No wonder Damon had a low opinion of socialites. Even as a teenager he must have been breathtakingly handsome. If rich women had thrown themselves at him, it was no surprise he was jaded. Or that he didn’t trust women who lived off wealthy husbands while amusing themselves with lovers.
Which was how he’d viewed her when he met her in her uncle’s home.
The tension eased from Callie’s shoulders as she realised his readiness to believe the worst didn’t stem from anything she’d done but from a lifetime’s mistrust.
Hadn’t she felt the same repugnance at the shallow games played by Alkis’ friends?
The sight of Damon turning to pace the length of the garden drew Callie to her feet. He was stiff with tension.
‘Damon?’ She took a step towards him then faltered as he slammed to a stop, one hand braced on a column supporting a pergola of scented flowers. Callie thought back to his last words and foreboding filtered through her.
‘Who did Leta target instead?’
Even from here Callie saw the spasm rack his body before his unnatural stillness resumed. Whatever had happened, this wasn’t easy for him.
No easier than her revisiting her time with Alkis.
‘My sister.’ The words bit like bullets from a machine gun. Callie’s throat closed in horror.
‘Sophie had come with me one afternoon while I made repairs. I needed another pair of hands and Sophie was always eager to help.’ He paused, then continued in a rush.
‘One of Leta’s boyfriends saw her and wanted her. Leta wasn’t above pandering to his whims. She got Sophie alone and invited her to a party that night. But it had to be a secret. Unfortunately my sister was in a rebellious phase and thrilled by the invite. She was sixteen and too innocent to know what to expect.’
Callie pressed a hand against her churning stomach. She wanted to tell Damon to stop, but the words stuck.
‘We didn’t realise she was missing till late. One of the younger girls woke and noticed she wasn’t in bed.’
‘You went looking for her?’
Of course he had. The role of protector was ingrained in him. She’d heard it in his voice as he described his family circumstances. Callie had experienced it first-hand on his yacht when he’d cared for a distraught woman.
‘I was almost too late.’ The words grated out. Instinctively Callie closed the gap between them, needing to offer comfort. She stopped within reach of his taut, looming frame. He radiated tension. She felt it shiver through her.
‘What happened?’
‘He’d drugged her, or maybe it was alcohol. Whatever, she was out of it, lying there with her pretty dress rucked up high and…’
Callie wrapped her arms around Damon’s waist, holding him close. The thunder of his heartbeat against her ear and the sound of his raw breathing filled the night. He was wound so incredibly tight.
‘He didn’t see me till I smashed his face in.’
His muscles quivered beneath her hold, reliving the moment of violence. Satisfaction coloured his voice. Callie couldn’t blame him. Her hands had clenched in sympathy.
He heaved a mighty sigh and she felt those muscles ease a fraction. ‘I ran foul of Leta’s other guests, who didn’t like me leaving with the prettiest girl there. But eventually we got away.’
Callie tilted her head and saw him rub absently at the skewed line of his nose.
‘That’s how you broke your nose? Saving your sister?’
He looked down, his dark brows slanted, his eyes flashing with remembered fury.
‘All that mattered was getting her out. A couple of black eyes and a bloody nose meant nothing.’
Callie shivered at the idea of a lone, teenaged Damon taking on a bunch of older men, primed by alcohol. It couldn’t have been easy. It must have been downright dangerous.
She lifted her hand and stroked the sharp angle of his jaw, feeling the faint graze of stubble tickle her palm.
‘What’s that for?’
Callie shook her head and let her hand fall. ‘Nothing.’
He was so matter-of-fact about saving his sister he wouldn’t understand the sudden surge of sympathy and admiration that welled within her. The softening deep inside that made her want to cling to him.
Maybe only a woman who’d never had a protector could feel so choked up by the story of his rescue.
‘What happened? Were they charged?’
‘No. My mother thought a court case would traumatise Sophie. We were sacked and threatened with the law if we showed our faces on the premises.’
Indignation fired Callie’s veins. ‘That’s outrageous! How could they threaten you?’
‘It was their word against ours. Leta was wealthy and powerful. I found new work in a place where I could learn about making money and beating that type in the only way they understood—with even more wealth and power.’
‘And Sophie? Is she all right?’ Callie rested her head on his chest. His arms encircled her.
Warmth that had nothing to do with shared body heat and everything to do with emotional connection spread through her. Damon’s acceptance, his honesty about his past meant so much.
‘Sophie’s fine. She’s one of Athens’ leading lawyers.’ Pride vibrated through his voice. Callie heard his smile without seeing it.
‘She lives here?’
‘Most of my family live close.’
Yet Callie had never met them.
Because she, a Manolis, wasn’t good enough? Or because she was only temporary? A knot worked in her stomach.
Then he moved and her train of thought dissolved. He slipped his hand through her hair, tugging her head back so she stared up into his fathomless eyes.
Something sparked between them. Something vivid and strong, like the erotic charge of passion they’d experienced from the start. But it was more. The echoes of their pasts, their raw emotions, the trust they’d shared, made this deeper and more powerful.
His gaze stripped her bare. As if he saw her naked, not her body, but herself. Callie Manolis, the woman who’d spent her adult life hiding behind carefully constructed defences, keeping the world at bay and herself safe from further harm.
She saw a man of honour, integrity and compassion. Impatient, quick to judge and eager to have his own way. But his honesty and caring made him unlike any man she’d known since her father.
Was it possible she’d found a decent man? Someone she could genuinely, wholeheartedly care for?
Callie had fought not to relinquish her barriers in the face of his steamroller tactics. But now she’d capitulated and instead of surrender this felt like victory.
Excitement blazed as his head lowered. His breath caressed her face, teasing her lips.
‘Damon.’ It was a cry of pure longing as her hands snaked up and dragged his head down.
The world lit to a blaze of glory as he claimed her lips, engulfed her being with his. He surrounded her, his arm a steel bar at her spine as he bent her back. Willingly she complied, trusting him to keep her from falling as he took her to heaven with his deep, drugging kiss.
Starbursts exploded as Callie gave herself up to ecstasy. There was no shame in surrender. Just acceptance.
Peace.
Pleasure.
For Callie had done what she’d never dreamed possible. With every last scintilla of hope and trust and courage within her, she’d fallen headlong in love with Damon Savakis.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CALLIE coiled her hair behind her head and pinned it. Soon Damon would be home and she wanted to look her best.
She grinned at the woman in the mirror. He’d appreciate how the scarlet fitted dress clung to her curves.
Callie revelled in the effect she had on him. No longer was she repulsed by the feel of hot male eyes on her. Not when that male was Damon.
She’d come a long way. From a wary, damaged victim hiding fear and pain behind a cold shell of detachment to a woman ready to trust a man. Enjoy being with a man.
A woman ready to embrace her future.
A future with Damon? Her pulse quickened. She hoped so.
Before him she’d given up trusting men. Yet he’d smashed her defences till she opened up to him.
How far their relationship had moved. They were bound by more than ties of physical desire. There was respect and caring as well as mutual delight.
For the first time in seven years Callie was happy.
Surely he reciprocated at least some of her feelings? Enough to build on? Increasingly he was interested in her, in her thoughts and plans, listening attentively as she described her first tentative steps into the commercial world. As if what she had to say mattered.
Did he have any idea what a balm that was? To feel as if she and her project was really important?
Callie had to keep reminding herself Damon bought and sold multimillion-euro businesses as easily as she designed an appliquéd hanging. Yet in these last few weeks he’d questioned and challenged her, almost as enthusiastic about her plans as she.
For the first time since she was eighteen the world seemed a rosy, promising place. With Damon beside her she felt capable of anything.
She, the girl who’d barely scraped a place at university, who’d struggled with her studies. Who’d been shown time and again her only value was decorative, or as a lever to financial gain. After years of Alkis’ snide remarks and mind games, Callie felt free, capable, independent. This sense of power, of self-worth, was heady.
As heady as the joy of having Damon in her life.
The phone rang and she reached for it eagerly. It was probably Angela with an update on her wedding plans.
Only last week Uncle Aristides had stunned them by agreeing to Angela and Niko’s marriage. Angela could have married without his blessing, but his threat to keep his wife from visiting their daughter’s home once she was wed had stymied the idea. Now everything was turning out right.
‘Angela?’
But instead she heard her lawyer’s crisp tones. Excellent news, he said.
‘Are you absolutely certain about this?’ she asked after he explained his reason for calling.
‘Absolutely. The manager of the new complex confirmed it in person. She said your venture is just the sort they want in their building. So much so that they’re willing to offer a reduced rental for the first eighteen months.’
Callie rubbed her forehead. She might be inexperienced but even she knew that exclusive new retail complexes did not cut their rent for an untried business. She’d queried the rent, guessing it would be far beyond her capacity to pay, but unable to resist checking out the most desirable new location in the city.
‘What sort of reduction are we talking about?’
The figure made her head spin. She groped for a chair and sank onto it. He described a peppercorn rental.
-->
